


Flightplan

by GreyMichaela



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (but there's smut too), Hand Jobs, M/M, Poe Dameron/Finn Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, someone asked for smut and I wrote fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe takes Finn up in Black One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flightplan

**Author's Note:**

> So someone asked me for X wing smut and this... happened. Apparently I can't write these two without them having sex at some point.

The first time Poe takes Finn up in his X wing, it’s a spur of the moment decision, brought on by the naked longing in Finn’s eyes as he looks at the sleek lines of Black One at rest on the duracrete of the hangar bay.

Poe glances around—they’re alone in the hangar, the rest of the pilots and ground crews gone to lunch.

“Come on,” he says, and grabs Finn’s hand, pulling him toward the X wing.

Finn hangs back, uncertainty on his expressive face, as Poe reaches for the ladder. “Poe, what—”

“Trust me,” Poe says, and Finn swallows and nods and follows him up the rungs.

Poe settles in his bucket seat and spreads his legs, beckoning for Finn to crawl into the cockpit after him. Finn balks briefly, eyeing the cramped space, but Poe grins at him, a wide, bright, delicious smile that takes over his whole face and feels like it lights up his entire body, and Finn laughs out loud and slithers into place.

His back is warm and solid against Poe’s chest and Poe wriggles a little to get comfortable. Their surroundings are so close that he ends up hooking his chin over Finn’s shoulder, pressing their cheeks together as he leans forward enough to get his hands on the controls.

“Okay?” he murmurs.

Finn nods wordlessly, his body tense, and Poe can’t help but take a deep breath of Finn’s wonderful scent, like cedar and custard bread and engine oil. (That last might be him, he realizes.)

“Don’t touch anything but me unless I say,” he says, and Finn nods again, clutching handfuls of his fatigues. Poe starts the engines and they hum as they spin up and lights flicker across the control panel. “Command, this is Black Leader, taking Black One on a quick maintenance run. Won’t be long.”

“Roger, Black Leader, safe flight,” a tinny voice says from the comlink.

“Ready?” Poe breathes against Finn’s cheek. He can feel the breath that Finn takes, but his voice is steady when he speaks.

“ _Yes_.”

Poe fires the thrusters in a slow, controlled burst, and Black One lifts smoothly off the duracrete, hovering a few feet above the ground. Poe guides the ship out of the hangar, more focused on Finn’s taut form and shallow breathing than he is on his ship, which he can fly in his sleep (with his feet).

“Tell me if I do anything you don’t like,” he says.

“There’s nothing you could do I wouldn’t like,” Finn says, and _stars_  but that shouldn’t make Poe’s cheeks heat and his toes curl.

He clears his throat and instead of answering, tilts Black One's nose up and opens the throttle. Finn is flung back against him and yelps in surprise but Poe just laughs. They streak across the tops of the trees that surround the rebel base, individual shapes blurring into formless green below them, broken by the occasional small body of water.

Poe’s showing off, he knows he is, but he can’t help but pour on the speed, demonstrating exactly what he and his baby can do. Finn whoops as Poe barrel rolls the ship, joy infusing his voice, and leans back against Poe’s chest.

“Can we go offworld?” he asks in Poe’s ear.

Poe shivers at Finn’s breath hot against his cheek and points Black One toward the sky in answer. They break atmosphere quickly and the rushing of the wind around the canopy ceases as they hang seemingly motionless in the vast, empty blackness, distant points of light wheeling around them.

Finn sucks in a breath. “I didn’t… when I rescued you, I didn’t really get a chance to _see_ —”

“It’s something,” Poe agrees quietly. He plots a course for a nearby forest moon and then lets go of the controls, the nav computer taking over for him. 

In the adrenaline of the flight, he’d more or less forgotten how squashed their quarters were, but now Finn shifts his weight, sliding down on the seat a little and Poe is abruptly reminded of Finn’s sturdy body pressed tightly to his in a line of heat from shoulder to knee.

Finn leans back a little more, dropping his head to Poe’s shoulder and turning his face into Poe’s neck. “You smell good,” he whispers, breath ghosting warm across Poe’s skin, and Poe swallows hard.

“Ah, Finn, buddy,” he manages, and forgets whatever he was going to say next as Finn’s mouth makes contact with his throat and he begins to explore with lips and tongue.

Poe swallows a moan as Finn kisses the bolt of his jaw, tongue warm and wet against Poe’s skin, and honestly he thinks he deserves a medal for the superhuman show of restraint as he grips Finn’s shoulders and eases him away.

Finn makes a sad noise and Poe closes his eyes. _Focus_.  

“Are you sure about this?” he husks.

Finn’s eyes are wide and dark and he nods instantly. “Jessika said… she said I’d probably need to make the first move, that you wouldn’t want to pressure me into anything.”

“I don’t,” Poe agrees, flexing his fingers around Finn’s shoulders. “You have options, Finn. You don’t have to—anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“But I want _you_ ,” Finn says, and their faces are just inches apart. Even though the angle is awkward and Finn has to tilt his head around, he’s all Poe can see, filling his vision with dark satin skin and liquid eyes and that beautiful, heart-stopping mouth, looking so soft and wet and inviting, and Poe is leaning forward before he’s thought it through to cover those lips with his own.

He’s pretty sure, dimly in the back of his mind, that time has stopped. All he can process is Finn’s taste and feel and smell, surrounding him and making his head swim as Finn sighs into his mouth and deepens the kiss.

The computer beeps, signaling that they’re about to enter the moon’s atmosphere, and startles them apart. Poe swears and Finn laughs, facing forward and leaning back into Poe’s arms as Poe takes the controls back and sets them down in a quiet meadow.

The grass is a soft shade of lavender, rippling in purple waves down to the tiny lake at the bottom of the field, and Poe pops the canopy so Finn can get out. But instead, Finn lifts himself up only far enough to turn around and straddle Poe’s lap.

Poe leans back against the seat, gripping Finn’s thighs. “Don’t you want to get out, enjoy the scenery?” he asks, and if his voice is a little strangled, it’s entirely Finn’s fault, with that predatory look in his eyes as he leans ever closer.

“I _am_ ,” Finn murmurs, and then they’re kissing again, slow and deep and perfect and Poe’s kissed more than his fair share of people, human and otherwise, so there’s no reason his head should be swimming like this, his skin tingling under Finn’s fingers, his thoughts a sluggish haze that he can’t quite pin down. But he can’t be bothered to figure out why or how it’s happening, not when Finn is working a hand between them and carefully pulling his zipper down, palming Poe’s hard length and making him jerk and gasp.

“Can I?” Finn whispers, breaking away enough to look into Poe’s eyes, and Poe can’t help the groan as he nods desperately.

“You too,” he manages, and Finn smiles and drops his head to kiss him again as he pulls himself out and takes Poe’s hand, wrapping it around his length. He’s hard and solid and heavy in Poe’s palm, leaking in slow, clear drops onto Poe’s belly, and Poe jacks him in a slow, easy slide, watching as Finn’s head falls back and he moans, bracing his elbows on Poe’s shoulders.

But then he moves, wriggling impossibly closer until their cocks are lined up flush against each other, and spits into his palm, bringing it down and wrapping it around both their lengths.

Poe loves Finn’s hands. They’re large for his height, the fingers long and slender, and Poe loves to watch them as Finn talks, hands waving for emphasis. He’s wondered more than once what they would feel like on him, and now he knows. 

Lightning ripples through his nerves and he bucks up into Finn’s steady grip with a choked noise. Finn wraps his other arm around Poe’s neck, pressing their foreheads together as he strokes them both.

Poe’s helpless in Finn’s clever hands, swept along by the tide of pleasure that’s swelling beneath his skin, a ball of heat in his groin sending licking tendrils outward, and he realizes that he’s not going to last, he’s got no self-control when it comes to Finn, to the lovely, damaged miracle on top of him, and just like that, Poe’s arching his back and coming in long, heavy pulses, coating Finn’s hand with slick wetness as Finn stiffens above him and adds to the mess on Poe’s belly with a stifled groan.

Wrung dry, they collapse against the seat, Finn’s face buried in Poe’s throat, heavy and limp on top of him, and Poe decides he could stay like this forever. He runs his hands up and down Finn’s back, careful to avoid the still tender scar tissue.

“Maybe next time we could try an actual bed?” he suggests. 

Finn sighs contentedly and snuggles a little closer. “Overrated,” he slurs, and Poe laughs soundlessly, holding him tight.


End file.
